Live Before You Die
by Carina2602
Summary: Calvin Anderson has a disappointing gay son. It was easy to send him to Dalton Academy and wash his hands with it. Then Blaine is hospitalized and things get complicated. Fill for prompt at glee angst meme.


Warnings: Emotional Abuse, Language, Homophobia, Intolerance

A/N: Fill for a prompt at the Glee Angst Meme. I have not forgotten Long Dark Street. I am working on the next part and should have it up later this week. This sort of ate my brain and my muse refused to let me work on it at all!

A/N: On a side note, I am not attempting nor intending to offend any Catholics. I know not all feel this way, but the Vatican Church has strictly stated its beliefs on homosexuality. Some Catholics take what the church says as gospel and consider it infallible. Others do not. Blaine's father falls into the first category. I just want to express that note clearly.

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><p><strong>Part One <strong>

Most fathers had complicated relationships with their sons. Some loved their children no matter what and did their best to support their child. A good father didn't care if their sons happened to be straight, gay, bisexual, transgender, or in love with monkeys. They still loved them and wished nothing but happiness for them. Other fathers had dreams and plans for their sons. They wanted them to take over the family business and had epic fights when their oldest child decided they wanted to be a musician or a beatnik artist. Some pushed their sons into professional sports and lived off their success. Others didn't care about their sons at all and abandoned them to whatever hand fate dealt them.

Then there were fathers that didn't understand their sons. They wanted a nice, normal straight son that liked sports and chased after girls in short skirts. A _gay _son didn't belong in the family. Some fathers kicked their sons out of the house when they came out. Others sent them to camps promising to turn them straight. A few sent their wayward sons to military school. Sometimes the easiest way to deal with a disappointing _faggot _son was to send him to boarding school across state lines.

Dalton Academy offered a perfect solution to an uncomfortable situation. Calvin Anderson considered every option for dealing with his son's misguided sexuality crisis, but he had a reputation and a multi-million dollar empire to consider. The very wealthy board members, shareholders, and employees of Anderson-Tanner-Wells Incorporated tended to hold fairly liberal social political views. Everyone involved in the company were highly educated and hailed from various parts of the country. They'd be upset if their vice president kicked his gay son out or sent him to a gay conversion camp in Utah.

After hours of research and speculation about his colleague's reactions, Calvin had decided to send his son off to a fairly tolerant boarding school and be done with it. Blaine probably never really intended to come out, but kids didn't tie you up to the flag pole and write _queer _on your forehead for no reason. Calvin hadn't been surprised at the revelation. Blaine liked the theater, loved opera, and hid magazines full of naked boys under his mattress. Gloria had found them once and shoved them at her husband with righteous fury.

"We're Catholics," Gloria had seethed on that Wednesday afternoon, "and we're one of the oldest families in Savannah. Fix this, Calvin."

Calvin had _known _his son was gay, but he had never confronted him about it. Gloria distanced herself from her son and constantly tried to set him up with pretty, wealthy girls from good Catholic families. Blaine always obliged his mother and took them on dates. Sometimes he managed to keep them around for a while, but eventually the girls moved on once they realized Blaine never looked at their breasts or eyed their legs like other boys did.

Once his son got tied to the flagpole and left in front of the private Catholic school for the entire student body to see, Blaine confessed his abnormal attraction to boys. Gloria wept and immediately stopped speaking to him.

"What will the women at church think?" She'd cried.

Blaine had disappeared upstairs with lead feet and stayed there until Calvin shoved a plane ticket in his hands. Dalton Academy had sent his son a welcome packet and a crisp new uniform. Calvin still felt a little guilty at the betrayed look on his son's face, but he'd put his foot down.

"Blaine," he'd started coldly, "We can't have you here in Savannah anymore. This is the best option. They openly accept gays at this school and have a strict policy towards bullying. You'll stay there during the school year. In the summer we'll see you for a few weeks at our vacation home on Lake Eerie. Then you'll attend a summer camp of your choice. It's for the best."

Calvin felt his heart shatter when Blaine burst into tears. The fifteen year old simply nodded and apologized for letting them down.

"I'm sorry," he'd sobbed, "I didn't mean to be like this."

"Well," Calvin bit back, "you are. You've got to lie in the bed you make, son."

Blaine boarded a plane alone the next morning. Calvin and Gloria went back to their daily lives. Business meetings and work related travel composed most of his life. Blaine stayed at school. Sometimes he called, but Calvin always let it go to voicemail. Gloria never answered her missed calls either. She merely sighed and pushed _erase _before they even played.

In the summer they spent two long, awkward weeks with their son. Blaine invited other boys over to help pass the time. An older Asian teen named Wes helped him practice dance moves and perfect his singing voice, while a tall black boy called David joked around and laughed easily. Calvin thought Blaine's friends were nice enough. They kept his son happy.

Their vacation ended and Blaine attended a theater camp with Wes for the rest of the summer. Calvin took Gloria on a luxury cruise to celebrate their sixteenth wedding anniversary. Seven weeks later, his beautiful wife announced an unexpected pregnancy. Calvin cried with joy and spoke into his wife's slightly round stomach.

In September _baby _became _babies_. October left them breathless with _identical _twin boys and Calvin wept in relief. The babies grew inside his wife's belly and developed into healthy fetuses. Blaine learned about the pregnancy and offered to throw his mother a baby shower. Gloria turned him down and suggested he stay in Ohio. Calvin agreed and promised his son they would visit on his birthday.

The twins arrived three weeks early. Between building a new nursery and a rushed delivery, Calvin managed to forget his oldest son's sixteenth birthday. Blaine called to see if he could visit his brothers and the date suddenly sprang to his mind. The older boy showed up for Christmas and smiled at his younger brothers. Gloria had caved and let him visit since she had _also _forgotten her son's birthday.

Calvin glared at her when he saw Blaine holding one of the twins, but he kept his tongue. His oldest son grinned happily and sang a sweet song to his younger brothers. Calvin chided him in private.

"Blaine," he'd hissed one evening, "I didn't invite you here. In fact, I don't want you here. I don't want you _infecting _your brothers!"

His son's face had crumbled into heartache and tears as he silently left the large, sprawling estate. Calvin smirked as Blaine asked their personal driver to take him to the airport. He purchased a BMW convertible the next week and had it delivered to Westerville, Ohio. Blaine had earned his driver's license a few months ago. Calvin didn't particularly like his son, but good fathers bought their kids cars. An Anderson couldn't drive an eye sore.

The kid got a platinum credit card the following week and an unlimited spending limit. Calvin didn't care what he bought, so long as he got the message and stayed out of his life. The twins got older and started crawling right around the time Blaine got sick.

Calvin learned that his son had come down with Acute Bacterial Meningitis. The emergency room in Lima, Ohio called for permission to administer treatment at three a.m. He gave his consent and booked a ticket to Ohio. Gloria asked after Blaine's health with a worried look, but she didn't press him for any details. Calvin had no idea what his son was doing in a town two hours south of Westerville.

Lima turned out to be a small, blue collar town with nothing remotely interesting. A quick Google search yielded only demographic and population numbers. Calvin frowned and drove over to the little city in an expensive rental car. St. Rita's had admitted his son nearly forty eight hours ago and planned on keeping him there until his fever went down.

Wes and David greeted him tersely in the lobby. A dozen other students in uniform lingered in an ugly lounge. Calvin greeted them politely and asked to see his son. Wes sent him a dark glare and led him to a room on the third floor. A red hazard sign hung on Blaine's door. Calvin sighed and reluctantly pulled on a paper mask for protection.

A slender blue eyed boy dressed in a ridiculous blue and gray ensemble stared at him in complete and utter shock. Blaine slept blissfully on a white hospital bed. His son's fingers were entwined into the other boy's soft hands and Calvin grimaced. The sight of two boys holding hands in such an intimate manner sickened him.

"You must be Blaine's dad," the blue eyed boy said tensely, "my name is Kurt Hummel."

"Are you his boyfriend?" Calvin hissed. "What the hell are you doing in here? They just let you in—even though you're not family?"

"He's more family to that boy than you are," a gruff voice interrupted, "and _your _kid wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for him."

Calvin whirled around and narrowed his eyes at the tall, burly man standing in the doorway. He held two coffee cups and wore a face mask of his own. The faded denim jeans and red baseball cap told Calvin all he needed to know about the man: _poor_.

"I'm not sure who you think you are," Calvin snapped, "but Blaine is _my _son. Please leave. _Now_!"

The skinny teen flinched at the harsh command, while the older man simply glared.

"No," Blaine suddenly interjected, "stop. Don't make them leave."

"I'm sorry," Calvin replied, "I didn't know you were awake."

Blaine didn't even bother to look at him. Calvin watched with mild curiosity as Kurt stroked his dark curls. The taller boy tensed once Blaine hunched over and started heaving. Calvin winced when a curved plastic bowl appeared and his son threw up into it. Kurt let him heave for several long minutes and finally dumped the tray in the nearby trashcan. Blaine wheezed for breath through an oxygen tube and wrapped his arms around the other boy.

"Dad," Kurt accepted the cup of coffee and glared, "you're not supposed to be in here. You heard what the doctors said."

"Yeah," Mr. Hummel grunted, "but I don't have to like it. I got you some coffee from the cafeteria. I'll be in the lounge if you need me. Why don't we let them be for a few minutes? I'll fill you in on what the doctors said."

"Sure," Calvin agreed amicably, "I'd appreciate it. Seems like your son has a handle on things."

"That's Kurt," Burt smiled, "he's an old pro at takin' care of invalids."

The joke didn't make sense. Calvin knew nothing about Burt Hummel. Blaine leaned into Kurt and asked for some water. He needed to escape that suffocating hospital room and the pale, sick boy inside it. The hallway smelled like antiseptic and burnt coffee. Nurses and Doctors hurried past the vending machines, aching for a brief smoke break or a quick snack as they thumbed through charts and made rounds with patients.

Burt led him down the hall and into a spacious lounge. A large plasma television hung on the wall and overstuffed couches sat in the center of the room. Calvin sank down into a plush armchair. Burt sipped at his coffee for a minute before he settled his hard stare onto his companion.

"Look," the other man began, "I know you don't have a good relationship with your son, but I'm happy you're here. I don't think Kurt can handle Blaine all on his own, despite what he says."

"Mr. Hummel," Calvin sighed, "I'm not sure what my son has told you. I'll admit we don't exactly get along well, but I've _always _given him everything he needs. I spoke to the doctors—I know _some _of what's going on. What I don't understand is why no one called me when he was first admitted. I would have come earlier."

"Call me Burt," the man insisted, "and no one called you because we didn't know how to get a hold of you. Blaine never really said much about you—or his mother-at least, not to me—but he didn't even have your number stored in his phone. The hospital had to get in touch with the school administration to get your number. I think that says enough about your _relationship_ with your son."

The disapproval and conviction echoed loud and clear through the empty room. Calvin eyed Burt for a moment. The man had no right to pass any judgment. He'd provided for Blaine as best he could under such unfortunate circumstances. Their relationship had become _complicated_, nothing more. An estranged son didn't matter any less. Calvin still loved Blaine, he just didn't understand him.

"I'm sure you can relate," Calvin scowled, "it's not easy having a son you don't understand."

"No," Burt scoffed, "it's not. I'm not saying I always get everything about my kid, but I sure as hell never expected him to spend every holiday at friend's houses—or by himself if his friends are traveling."

"I can see that Blaine has been telling stories," he seethed, "spreading rumors."

Burt Hummel started at the nasty tone and abruptly dumped his coffee cup into the trash can. The tension grew between them. Calvin met his angry glare without flinching. Burt shook his head in disbelief.

"Your kid is sick," he deflated, "maybe you ought to worry about that."

"Maybe _you_ should think twice about _your_ parenting skills," Calvin spat, "_your _queer son is encouraging _my _son's confusion!"

"Fuck you," Burt jeered, "don't you _dare _talk about my boy like that."

Their shouted insults started to draw attention. Calvin hated the simple, middle class man with every fiber of his being. Some nurses popped into the room to quiet them down and discovered two men near blows. Calvin complained about non family members visiting his son and possibly contaminating him further. The nurses stared down Burt and order him to leave. The other man threw him a dark glare and swore as he stomped out of the lounge.

Anger boiled Calvin's veins. The nurses followed him down the hallway and listened patiently when he started to complain about Kurt Hummel's unwelcomed presence. A clear, high voice interrupted the bitter tirade. Beautiful singing drifted out of Blaine's room and filled the white walls.

_Now I'm walking again  
>to the beat of a drum<br>And I'm counting the steps to the door of your heart  
>Only shadows ahead<br>barely clearing the roof  
>Get to know the feeling of liberation and relief<em>

Calvin stopped at the doorway and listened to the soulful voice finish _Don't Dream it's Over. _A small crowd had quietly gathered around the room, captivated by the lovely music. Blaine's eyes drooped and he breathed easily as Kurt sang the familiar melody. Tears trickled down the younger boy's pale cheeks. The anger ebbed into sympathy. Calvin stepped into his son's room once the song ended.

Kurt didn't notice his presence. Calvin watched Blaine slip into a peaceful sleep. The thought of two guys together had always sickened him, but this—this wasn't what he had imagined. All he'd pictured was _unnatural sex _and drag queens. Kurt and Blaine were none of those things. They were simply two boys in love. Surely, there couldn't be anything wrong with that.

The sudden compassion terrified Calvin. What had he been thinking, shunning his oldest son? He thought back to the day Blaine was born. _I loved him then_. What had changed? Nothing-Blaine deserved to be loved, and the boy holding his son had done just that.

"I can tell Mr. Hummel to leave, if you like," a nurse interrupted his perplexed thoughts, "since he's not family."

"No," Calvin muttered, "No. Let him stay."

"Very well," she smiled and flounced away, "he likes medium drip coffee."

"I'm sorry about before," he apologized, "would you like me to get you some more coffee?"

"No thanks," Kurt started, "I'm fine for the moment. Is my dad still here?"

"He left," Calvin squeaked uncomfortably, "maybe you should go home."

"I promised Blaine I'd be here when he woke up," Kurt whispered, "he had a spinal tap a few hours ago—he didn't handle it very well."

"I'm glad you were here for him," Calvin smiled sincerely, "mind if I sit with you a while?"

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two <strong>

The night passed slowly. Blaine woke wheezing and hacking a few times. Nurses came and went, checking his temperature. They changed his son's IV bags and soothed his pain with drugs. Calvin couldn't stomach staying in that room when they were in there. Needles had always bothered him and hospitals set his nerves on edge. He'd spent five years watching his brother die painfully from Leukemia. The room smelled awful and felt constricting.

Kurt didn't seem to mind sticking around. The younger boy drifted in and out of sleep with his son, determined to be there every time Blaine complained about pain. Calvin kept going for coffee and wandered the halls aimlessly, trying to prolong his absence from the hospital room. He wondered why Burt let his son stay overnight in such a terrible place.

The Dalton students left after they made several attempts to visit Blaine. Calvin informed the staff that he expected them to follow the hospital's own policy and keep them away. They didn't need to disturb a sick boy. He debated sending Kurt home, but some part of him that still loved his son decided to let him stay for now. The warring emotions confused him.

In times of crisis he liked to rely on his faith. Calvin had a sudden desire to visit a church. The cold night air blasted his face and he started to walk away from the hospital. St. Rita's existed in an upscale neighborhood. A large, beautiful church loomed on the street corner. He practically ran towards the stained glass windows. A dimly lit sign announced Sunday service hours and bible study. St. John's had the look and feel of a traditional Catholic church.

Calvin hurried to the front doors and pushed. The doors swung open, revealing pews. He sucked in a deep breath and tried to absorb the smell of old wood and lighted candles. The quiet, peaceful church wrapped around him like a wool blanket. A priest appeared after a while. The man seemed surprised. He had graying black hair and deep brown eyes. Calvin politely requested a confession, but the father took one look at his reddened eyes and said they could simply talk in the pews.

The priest listened intently as he told him about Blaine. Calvin spilled everything regarding their complex relationship. In the end, he pleaded for advice from a man that understood God's will. Father Azimio smiled kindly and asked if he had ever heard about the Catholic Churches twelve step program for gays. Calvin nodded, then went on for a while about his company and how it'd hurt his reputation to force Blaine into such a thing. Father Azimio frowned and quietly insisted that saving his son's immortal soul was more important than impressing business partners.

Calvin cried in frustration, but took the pamphlets about _Courage _and promised God he'd do everything he could to save Blaine. Dawn had arrived by the time he left the church. The confession and blessing gave him resolve. Blaine couldn't hide at Dalton Academy anymore or move further into an extremely intimate relationship with Kurt Hummel. Calvin suspected his son was still a virgin. The hospital buzzed with early morning activities. Visitors arrived and diverged into whichever room their loved ones were in.

Blaine blinked at him in surprise when he arrived. Kurt remained by his son's side. Calvin quietly requested to speak to the boy outside. The sixteen year old nearly blew a gasket when he told him in no uncertain terms that he had to leave. The staff arrived to honor his request and informed Kurt that he had to have a legal hospital proxy if he wanted to visit. Kurt cried and begged desperately to stay as two security guards forcefully lead him out of the hospital.

Calvin did his best to ignore Blaine's distressed and panicked cries for Kurt. His son deflated when he ordered him to stop _whining. _Doctor Lopez arrived shortly after Blaine began to hyperventilate. The Latino physician glared at him with asperity, but kept his mouth shut after Calvin threatened to sue him for malpractice if he tried to go against his wishes. Blaine wheezed himself into a long coughing fit.

The next two days flew by. Blaine's fever broke, but he still asked for Kurt every time he woke. Calvin ordered the boys from Dalton to stay away from his son and relayed that Blaine would _not _be returning to the private school once the doctors released him from the hospital. An attractive Latina hospital volunteer started visiting Blaine every day. Santana flirted shamelessly with his son and frequently asked Calvin if he was single.

Calvin let the candy striper girl visit to cheer his son up. Then a local church group began to make rounds at St. Rita's. A pretty blond haired girl named Quinn offered to sing Blaine any song he wished, but his son simply rolled over and refused to meet her eyes. Quinn brought one of her church friends the next time she came around. Mercedes professed her love for Jesus and handed Blaine some books on the healing power of faith. Blaine accepted them reluctantly, but smiled at Mercedes fondly.

A boy in a wheelchair (a physical therapy patient) helped Blaine through some of his loneliness. For a few hours Calvin worried that his son was attracted to Artie, but then he met the boy's ditzy blond girlfriend that went on about dolphins and realized he had no reason to worry. Gloria agreed to enroll Blaine in the twelve step program. She promised to keep the decision quiet. They decided to tell everyone that their son was staying with relatives. Eventually, the hospital released Blaine with a list of complicated instructions and strict guidelines for his care. Dr. Lopez glared daggers at him as he wheeled his son out of the hospital.

A crowd waited for them in the parking lot. Burt and Kurt Hummel stood outside the sliding glass doors. An older, slightly plump brunette woman and an extremely tall teenager stayed by their sides. A large group of students from Dalton Academy had congregated on the asphalt, led by Wes and David. Calvin smiled thinly at the unexpected spectators. Blaine started at their presence. His burdened brown eyes lit up once he saw Kurt.

"Could I speak to you a minute?" Burt Hummel took a tentative step forward. "About your son, I mean."

"I don't see why not," Calvin shrugged with false sincerity, "Why don't you say goodbye to your friends, son?"

Blaine risked an uncertain glance at him and tensed when he saw his father's controlled fury. He seemed torn about whether or not to follow the request. The Warblers made the decision for him. They wheeled Blaine onto the sidewalk and chattered noisily for a few minutes. Wes and David crouched down to his eye level. Calvin watched them and frowned as they whispered something out of earshot.

Kurt Hummel hurried over to join them, but his brother and mother remained amongst the sea of cars. Calvin ignored his son for the moment. Burt narrowed his eyes in resentment and tugged at his baseball cap.

"Look," the older man started, "I'm not here to start anything with you, but I want you to know that Blaine's practically moved into our house fairly recently. The kid is always over whenever he can come by. He took my son to prom and defended my kid from a ruthless bully. It takes a lot of steel to do that sort of thing, you know?"

"What are you trying to get at, Mr. Hummel?" Calvin ran a hand through his hair. "I've always given him everything he needed."

"Maybe," Burt grunted, "but nothing he wanted. What I'm trying to say is that I know you don't have a good relationship with him. I'd be happy to take him off your hands if you wanted. I'd be _proud _to call Blaine my son."

"He's seventeen years old," Calvin scoffed, "a little too old to be adopted. Besides, there's no need. He's coming home to Georgia."

"Why," Burt spat as he leaned forward, "so you can go back to ignoring him? Do you know who took Blaine to that football game for his birthday 'cause you couldn't be bothered? I did!"

"Get out of my face," Calvin rasped, "Blaine stays with us. We're his family."

Burt reluctantly walked away, shaking his head in disgust as he rejoined his wife and son. Calvin let Blaine spend a few minutes with his friends. Blaine smiled wistfully at the Warblers and tearfully exchanged goodbyes. Some of the boys gave his son gifts, while others affectionately patted him on the back. After several minutes Calvin politely reminded them that they needed to be on their way.

Tears streaked down Kurt's pale face. The younger boy fixed a superior glare at Calvin and leaned down, kissing Blaine passionately on the lips. His son cupped Kurt's face lovingly. Calvin felt sick and revulsion made him look away. What had he been thinking that night in the hospital? Clearly, he'd had a lapse of judgment due to all the traveling and troubling news. Two guys kissing in public like that appalled him.

Blaine's tears started to flow as Kurt gently wheeled him over to his father. Calvin couldn't wait to escape the shitty little town. Burt and his wife joined the two crying boys. Blaine hugged Carole with all his might, bumped a trembling fist with Kurt's brother, and embraced Burt when he approached.

"You're always welcome," Burt promised, "always. Got that?"

"Thanks," Blaine murmured through tears, "for my birthday—for everything."

Kurt walked Blaine to the rental car and kissed his boyfriend chastely. Calvin let the boy help his son inside the vehicle.

"Je t'aime. Rappelez-vous: le courage," Kurt whispered in French, "toujours."

"Je t'aime," Blaine echoed, "advienne que pourra."

Calvin practically slammed the SUV's door in the kid's reddened face. Kurt shook with tears and watched the large luxury vehicle pull out of the parking lot with sorrowful eyes. Blaine twisted around and desolately waved at him. He had no idea what the two boys had said to each other since he only spoke English and Japanese.

"I let you say goodbye," Calvin glowered, "now turn around, shut up, and stop fucking crying. You're worse than a woman! It's not like you're dying. Take it like a man!"

He watched as his son curled against the passenger window, flinched, and placed his head against the cool glass. Calvin smirked at the shivering boy and reached for the radio. U2 sang meaningful ballads as the SUV merged onto the highway. Maybe he could save Blaine after all.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three <strong>

Western Ohio's rolling hills faded into the distance and gave way to Kentucky's rugged green foothills. Driving to Georgia had been the easiest solution. Dr. Lopez had not cleared Blaine for flying and he still needed a lot of sleep. Hectic airports would be less than ideal. Calvin let his son crawl into the back seat once they crossed state lines. Blaine's sullen attitude grated on his every last nerve, but he could keep his tongue as long as his kid did.

The curly haired boy put headphones into his ears and ignored him. Calvin stopped for gas and food when necessary, though he always escorted his son to and from the car. Blaine picked at every meal offered. Calvin didn't care whether or not he ate, so he simply chowed down his own food and ridiculed Blaine for joining a choir.

"No wonder you're into guys," Calvin said between bites one evening at a roadside diner, "alone at that all boys school. For crying out loud. You have to join one extracurricular activity and one sport. What do you choose? A damn choir and Lacrosse. You couldn't even pick something remotely manly!"

Blaine never answered and ended up tossing his own sandwich into a nearby garbage can. No matter how much Calvin pushed, his son didn't fight back. All of the bullying suddenly made perfect sense. Blaine was a coward. How had he managed to raise such a weakling? Calvin could not quite understand it. They ventured out of Kentucky and into the pretty Tennessee mountains. Blaine downed his pain medication and vitamins religiously, which made him sleepy.

The thirteen hour drive took them two and a half days due to Blaine's illness. Calvin paid for the best hotel rooms money could buy so his son had an opportunity to sleep in a plush bed. The staff never blinked an eye when he requested a suite. Blaine slept in a separate bedroom. On the first night they stopped, Calvin waited until his son fell asleep to dig through some of his belongings.

Everything on the laptop got erased. Pictures, homework assignments, and internet favorites disappeared without trouble. Calvin took the computer downstairs to the lobby and donated it to a staff member that had a daughter. At least it would go to charity. Next he fished out his son's iPhone. Customer service agreed to end the contract and reassign the number as long as he paid some astronomical early termination fee. Calvin agreed without a second thought, told them to charge his account, and threw the pricey phone into the trashcan.

The iPod could stay. Blaine woke the next morning and threw a fit about his missing things. Calvin coldly told him that he needed to forget the past and focus on the future. Blaine collapsed into the backseat after refusing breakfast. The car continued on its journey. Gloria wasn't happy about her son's return to the estate. She hemmed and hawed about church groups, important social dinners with local (and occasionally foreign) politicians, nosy business partners, the live in nanny, and the twins.

Calvin reassured her that he already had everything worked out. Blaine would reside in the far, left wing rooms at the mansion. That side of the house rarely had any visitors. Their son would go to doctor appointments and have tutors until he was fully recovered from his illness. Then they would enroll the boy in Courage. The plan seemed flawless. Blaine would be well cared for while he healed, they could go on with their lives uninterrupted, and no one would notice the slight inconvenience.

Gloria seemed happy with the carefully thought out plan. Georgia came into sight late Wednesday afternoon. Blaine sank further down against the seat and sighed. Calvin welcomed the constant silence. The boy had started to flinch every time he spoke, always anticipating a cutting remark. Calvin was happy to give them. The kid had upset his good—no—_great_ life by getting sick. It wasn't fair that he had to rearrange things for him.

Blaine listened to his iPod as a distraction and looked out the window. Calvin wondered briefly if the kid had eaten at all during their trip. Maybe three or four times when he wasn't being derided; it was difficult to remember. Heavy humidity seeped through the air. Cherry trees blossomed and scattered their pretty leaves through Savannah. Calvin arrived at the estate in midafternoon and sighed with relief.

The staff could return the rental car. Calvin just wanted to get home and see his wife. Gloria greeted them in the foyer. The dark haired beauty kissed him deeply. They embraced and she snaked her small hand into his. Blaine politely stepped forward, moving to hug his mother. Gloria's lip curled. She turned on her heels and fled the foyer. Calvin let her lead him away from his son. The smell of baking bread fanned into the sitting room from the kitchen.

Calvin kissed her again and saw the twins playing outside on their jungle gym with the nanny.

"Imogen and Atticus grew while I was away," he beamed, "they look happy."

"They are happy," Gloria tucked her slender frame into his chest, "and healthy. We have so much to be thankful for."

"I'd agree with that," he said tenderly, "have I told you lately how much I love you?"

"Yes," she laughed, "but I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

A quiet cough interrupted their reunion. Blaine had started to ascend the grand staircase, clearly heading towards his old room. Calvin released his beautiful wife. Not many couples kept their spark after nearly eighteen years of marriage, but they'd never had that problem. He loved his wife deeply and their shared faith made their union stronger than most. Marriage was for life. They would never divorce; the Bible was clear on that. There had been some rocky times in their lives, yet they always managed to soldier on.

"We remodeled the upstairs," Calvin hollered at his son, "your old room got converted into the nursery, and it's adjacent to the nanny's."

"Where am I sleeping?" Blaine asked meekly and stared at the ground. "I always slept up there."

"You'll be in the left wing," he motioned for the boy to follow, "we moved some of our old furniture in there."

Blaine obediently trailed after him, struggling to carry his heavy suitcase. Calvin didn't offer to help. The boy needed some more physical activity after spending several days in the hospital. Calvin guided his son to the back stairs and climbed to the fourth story. Four rooms and two bathrooms comprised this side of the mansion. Guests rarely stayed at their home, but every room was meticulously maintained and extravagantly decorated. Gloria loved interior decorating and antique furniture.

"W-what happened to all of my old stuff?" Blaine entered the guest bedroom and eyed it warily. "I mean my clothes, my instruments, and things?"

"Your mother did some spring cleaning last year," he shrugged, "so you'll have to ask her. I think they ended up at the auction or maybe a consignment somewhere."

"Oh," Blaine sounded like he regretted asking, "I'd like to see my brothers."

"Your brothers are young and impressionable," Calvin paced the spacious room, "I don't want you to give them any ideas."

His son fiddled with a gold pocket watch, refusing to meet his eyes. The kid had no backbone. Calvin wished he hadn't gotten sick. Things would be easier if Blaine had simply stayed out of his life.

"Listen," Calvin began, "you'll stay on this side of the house. Your mother is a busy, active woman. She needs her privacy. I need mine. We'll send your meals up here. I've arranged for a tutor to start helping you catch up on your studies. I'll make sure you get to your physical therapy appointments and checkups."

"Am I allowed to go outside," Blaine mocked softly, "or do I have to stay here in the tower, and grow my hair out so I can use it as a rope?"

"I don't appreciate your tone," Calvin returned frostily, "of course you can go outside. Just stick to the garden or the pool. Anywhere except your mother's-or brother's places."

Blaine nodded briefly. Satisfied their conversation had ended, Calvin marched out the door. He closed it with a harsh slam, fished for a key in his pocket, and went downstairs. The key belonged to the door at the bottom of the steps. Calvin pushed it into the lock and turned it with a frigid smile. At least Blaine wouldn't be able to run off in the middle of the night.

* * *

><p><strong>Part Four<strong>

The evening passed without incident. Gloria finished cooking dinner and presented a lovely meal of authentic wild caught salmon. Their nanny managed to get the twins dressed and cleaned up prior to their meal. Sara joined them dressed in a tasteful summer dress. The attractive redhead regaled them with amusing stories about their children. Calvin asked after her ailing mother. She thanked him for his concern.

After catching up on email and making love to his wife, he attempted to sleep. The long drive left him exhausted. Oddly enough, Calvin could not fall into a content slumber. Dark and quiet hallways surrounded him. The solitude saturated every part of the expansive mansion. He wandered through each floor, hoping to wear his wired mind out so he could doze off for a few hours.

Eventually, Calvin found himself standing outside the door that led up to Blaine's room. The door squeaked slightly as he opened it and crept up the stairs. Heart wrenching cries shattered the stillness of the night. Calvin paused outside his son's room and listened as he sobbed. Occasionally Blaine moaned; high pitched and broken by deep breaths. It sounded like a wounded animal had found its way into the house.

Calvin wondered how long he had been weeping like that. Then he guiltily remembered he'd forgotten to bring dinner upstairs like he promised. Perhaps a late dinner would brighten his son's spirits. Calvin went back downstairs and ventured into the kitchen. Food of every variety filled the enormous, state-of-the-art fridge. He pulled out items to make a good sandwich. Gloria might have been upset if he fed their son the fish, so he opted for some left over lasagna. Calvin heated it in the toaster oven and dumped some fruit and vegetables onto a plate.

Tin foil kept the food from teetering off the plate. Calvin carefully balanced a steel tray of food and beverages up the winding staircase. The crying continued. He knocked lightly, entered the bedroom without knocking, and set the platter down on a round table. Blaine sucked in gasping breaths and sat up. Salty tears soaked his face and his hair stuck out in every direction.

"I brought you up some dinner," Calvin tried, "I thought you might want something to eat."

"I'm not hungry," his son mumbled, "Why did you bring me back? I wanted to stay at Dalton."

"You need to get better," he replied, "you couldn't stay there."

"I could have stayed with Kurt's family," Blaine insisted, "they actually like having me around."

Calvin shook his head in disbelief and walked out of the room. Glasses rattled around as Blaine picked up something off the tray. Calvin left behind several pill bottles. Once morning came, he'd call Burt Hummel and try to work something out. Blaine sounded terrible and all of the crying was sure to do a number on his already damaged lungs. It wouldn't look good if his oldest son died under his watch. Blaine needed to calm down. Talking to some of his friends would probably be beneficial to his health. Calvin rubbed his forehead in irritation as he left the wing. Why couldn't anything go smoothly these days?

A warm spring rain arrived with morning. Calvin had a sleepless night and put on a coffee pot by seven. Gloria got up when the twins started to cry, fed them their prepared bottles, and brought them down for breakfast. Sara had class early in the mornings for graduate school; she wouldn't be back until early afternoon. Calvin made eggs, toast, and bacon for everyone. A plate got set aside for Blaine and wrapped in foil.

He had just sat down in a chair beside Atticus when the doorbell rang. Gloria raised a questioning eyebrow at him, but remained in her seat and patiently fed Imogen. Calvin shrugged and got up to answer the door.

"Calvin!" Cecelia Anderson bounced into the foyer. "Why, it's so good to see you!"

"Ceecee," he spluttered in shock, "what are you doing here?"

"I came for a visit," the blond beamed, "there I was, enjoying Paris, when I realized I hadn't seen you for ages. So here I am!"

"I don't believe it," Calvin glared, "but I don't see why you can't come in."

"Do I smell breakfast?" Cecelia continued as if he hadn't spoken. "I could use some nourishment."

Cecelia sashayed her slender hips across the mansion like she owned the place and gracefully flounced into the kitchen. His baby sister cooed at the twins, curtly greeted Gloria, and frowned at the extra plate.

"Where is my favorite nephew?" She demanded. "I want to see him!"

Calvin stared at his sister and wondered how she had known Blaine was back in Georgia. The woman was a flake. She didn't deserve to own half of his assets and fortune, but their father had always loved her best despite her rebellious and free spirited nature. Cecelia had never worked in her entire life. She simply collected her dividend checks and partied her way across the world. Countless suitors had chased her, but she didn't marry or commit to any serious relationships. His sister had stopped practicing Catholicism long before Blaine had been born and converted to Buddhism.

Blaine had always been close to her. They shared a bond he didn't understand. Gloria absolutely hated Cecelia and constantly snubbed her in any family affairs. While Calvin was careful to maintain a façade of love and acceptance, he felt a lot of resentment towards his younger sister. Their father had spoiled her rotten due to the fact that she was the only girl in the family. Luke's death had devastated everyone, but instead of growing closer to his only living son, Frank Anderson had doted on his daughter.

"He's upstairs," Calvin said, "I'll go get him. Why don't you join Gloria at the table?"

"Nonsense," Cecelia waved her hands, "I'll go with you."

They left the dining room together and headed towards the left wing. Calvin wilted under his sister's harsh glare when he produced a key and unlocked the door. Cecelia clackedher tongue, but said nothing as they climbed the stairs. He knocked loudly and announced the unexpected visitor. Blaine flung the door open and started when he saw his aunt. Cecelia held out her skinny arms. The curly haired boy flew into them and hugged her.

"Blaine," she grinned like a loon, "tout ira bien. Je vous promets. J'espère que vous êtes prêt pour ce."

"Vous êtes venu," Blaine replied earnestly, "merci."

"Of course I did," Cecelia took her nephew's hand and pulled him into the hallway, "now come on. I'll take you to breakfast and then we'll go shopping!"

"I'm not sure he's up for it," Calvin began, "he's still recovering from his illness."

"Nonsense," she dismissed, "if he's tired, we'll just take a rest! Come!"

Calvin grumbled as his sister almost shoved his son out the front door. The brunette had rented a Jeep and eagerly helped Blaine inside. Maybe he wouldn't have to call Burt Hummel after all: Cecelia could keep his son happy. The Jeep's engine started. Calvin watched the vehicle drive down the long, paved driveway and turn onto the country road. Blaine was out of his hair for now: definitely an improvement.

**Part Five **

It took Calvin several hours to realize something was wrong. The day had been quite busy for him, and while the office had graciously allowed him to work from home, he had to participate in conference calls all afternoon. An incompetent accountant had screwed up some numbers in a potential merger deal. The company they were looking to merge with had rejected the deal and had everyone scrambling for a solution. Gloria kept a steady stream of coffee cups and water coming as she went about her day.

Sara came back from classes and took the twins to a play date with some neighborhood children. Calvin worked well into the evening hours. Time seemed to escape him. It wasn't until Gloria brought a dinner tray up to the office that he realized seven o'clock had come and gone. He absently asked if she would take some food up to Blaine. Gloria just stared at him and informed him that their son had yet to return.

The unexpected development made his head pound. Calvin immediately got on the phone and called Cecelia. His sister answered on the third ring.

"Calvin," she answered cheerfully, "what's on your mind?"

"You've spent the entire day with my son," Calvin snapped impatiently, "I think it's time you brought him back home so he can rest."

"Oh, you mean Blaine," Cecelia emphasized the name dramatically, "actually; he had someplace to be in the morning, so he won't be returning this evening."

"What?" Calvin fumed. "Where the hell is he, Ceecee?"

"Ohio," she laughed, "he got on a plane this morning!"

"You overstepped your boundaries," he hissed furiously, "tell me where he is right this minute!"

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Cecelia shot back, "I'll give you the address. 15980 Elm St. Lima, Ohio."

"He's with that boyfriend of his?" Calvin demanded. "I'll press charges. I'll call the police-and they'll be in trouble for harboring a runaway!"

"Blaine's not a runaway," Cecelia informed him, "not anymore. I suggest you call your son and find out what's going on."

Calvin tried to get his sister to explain what the hell was going on, but she simply refused and hung up on him. Anger clouded his mind. Calvin told Gloria about their son's disappearance. She didn't seem to care one way or another and said he should just call the number Cecelia had given him to figure out what had happened. Calvin brushed off her suggestion and immediately booked a ticket to Ohio.

As he hastily threw clothes into a suitcase, he called the Lima police department and informed them of his son's actions. A secretary connected him to a detective. The police officer-Detective Pearce—promised to locate his son and get back to him. Calvin finished packing and waited for the woman to call him back. Detective Pearce quickly handled the complaint and hesitantly relayed a number for Calvin to call. The woman wouldn't say anything else due to legal matters. Calvin called the number provided. A man he didn't know answered.

"I'm Calvin Anderson," he introduced himself coldly, "and I demand to speak to my son!"

"My name is Daniel Berry," the man replied, "and I'm afraid I can't do that. I'm your son's lawyer."

"Lawyer," Calvin blinked, "why would he need a lawyer?"

"Minors petitioning for emancipation are entitled to legal counsel," Berry explained neutrally, "and Blaine Anderson is my client. I will be representing him tomorrow when he appears before a judge to make a case for his emancipation. As a parent, you do have legal rights. I suggest you hire a lawyer if you want to come to court tomorrow morning at eight."

"Bastard," Calvin seethed, "I've given him everything—everything—and he has the nerve to file for emancipation? I'll sue!"

"I know what has gone on," Mr. Berry sounded pissed, "between you two. I believe Blaine will win his case. He's got enough evidence and witnesses to support his claims. Good day, Mr. Anderson."

A dial tone suddenly rang in his ear. Calvin slammed the phone down and shouted at his wife to get the car ready. Blaine had gone behind his back to do this-and his own sister had helped. He had no intention of losing his parental rights without a fight. Gloria pleaded for him to just drop it and let Blaine stay in Ohio.

"We're happy here without him," she begged, "just think what the ladies at church will say when this gets around. Think about what your partners will say! Let it go! We don't need Blaine anymore! We have the twins!"

"I need to save him," Calvin insisted, "it's important."

Gloria sighed and finished helping him pack. Calvin drove to the airport at top speed and made it there in record time. The corvette had smooth transition between gears. He flew first class to Ohio and drank wine on the late night flight. The plane touched the ground in Ohio around midnight. Calvin struggled with the rapidly thinning crowd in the airport and rented a car.

The drive down to Lima didn't take very long. He drank too much coffee and had a good buzz going by the time he made it to town. The streets were deserted, so he checked into the only decent hotel. Calvin fell into an exhausted and fit full sleep. St. Patrick reminded him that he watched over all travelers, while St. Peter demanded that he save his wayward son. The gates of heaven were closed to him until he could do so.

The dreams gave him severe anxiety, something he hadn't experienced since Luke had died. Calvin woke early and dressed immaculately for court. A brand new business suit looked sophisticated and stylish. The court house wasn't far from the hotel. He'd hired a lawyer at the last minute over the phone, but he had been impressed with Summer Zizes' credentials. The woman had a long record of winning cases and fighting for her clients.

A small crowd had gathered in the courthouse. The Hummel family sat in the front row behind the plaintiff, Blaine Anderson. All of the Warblers had come to support their friend. Calvin didn't recognize the other teenagers in the room except for Artie and Santana. Dr. Lopez fixed a hateful stare at him and squeezed his daughter's hands. The bailiff arrived and announced the arrival of Judge Ben Israel.

The hearing began and started with Dr. Lopez's testimony. He went on about the hospital stay and how distressed Blaine had been once Kurt had left. Then he answered questions from Mrs. Zizes and discussed his gay daughter, the support and friendship Blaine had offered her, and how he would gladly care for the boy if he was granted emancipation rights. Calvin raged in silence, cursing the man and his stupid daughter.

Burt Hummel testified next. The man turned his judging blue eyes onto Calvin and explained his relationship to Blaine: how they had become close over the last year. Burt described the day he'd taken Blaine to Columbus for a college football game because his father had forgotten his birthday. Carole informed the judge that she had taken care of Blaine when he had come down with the flu. Kurt calmly articulated driving to Dalton on a Sunday morning because Blaine hadn't answered his phone and how he had found his boyfriend sick and nearly unconscious. Wes and David went over the details about the arrangement Calvin had with his son, and how Blaine would often go to their houses for the holidays and spent every summer rotating through camps.

Calvin patiently waited for his turn to take the stand, but the judge decided to deny it. The blonde made a simple statement regarding Blaine's situation and agreed that he should be emancipated. Kurt wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. The Warblers clapped with relief. Calvin clenched his teeth together, furious that the judge ordered him to pay child support. Cecelia stood in the back of the courtroom and simply smiled. Blaine embraced Kurt and they kissed as Calvin Anderson stormed out.


End file.
